Entry 36: Remarriage

In spite of the drama surrounding Dad's funeral, I continued my relationship with my sister. However, everything felt different now. Her denouncement of me the day Dad died had opened my eyes to the level of judgement she carried. I knew it had always been there to some degree, but whenever we were together, I found myself conflicted, as the old sister I'd always known would suddenly appear. She was excited to spend time with me, she listened, laughed, and we reminisced about the past. But no matter how good our visits were, I knew not to let my guard down completely, and give her anything that could be used against me later. And because both of us refused to show any real vulnerability, it had sadly become one of the most unfulfilling relationships in my life.

When my sister announced she was getting married a second time within the church, while Dad was still alive, I wanted to be happy for her, but I struggled to be. I felt she was still running away from her sexuality and was about to cage herself again. Her fiancé had been nice enough, but I'd not witnessed any real depth between them. But then I reminded myself that it hadn't been something she'd ever really sought from a man. It was the women in her life that provided the emotional connection, and she'd already attached herself to a widow in the church, who seemed to fit that bill. As I watched my sister shower this woman with attention, affection and gifts, I knew then that she'd secretly fallen in love with her.

Because I wasn't part of the religion, there really wasn't a place for me within the wedding. My sister had left me out of the planning, including shopping for her wedding dress, taking my stepmother instead. However, the one task I'd been assigned to was the music for the dance. As for Dad and my stepmother, they were to be witnesses at the ceremony.

In spite of my sister returning to the religion, they'd planned the wedding so it was non-traditional and relatively non-religious. They'd picked a small venue, 12 hours away, with only a handful of guests attending, many of them close friends of mine at one time. And they'd hired a Justice of Peace, choosing to write their own vows.

Though this made me feel somewhat better, the idea of attending my sister's wedding still stressed me out. It would be the first time mingling among church members since leaving, and I had no idea how I'd be received. Plus, I was about to be put in a room with my stepfamily as well, who up to this point had wanted little to do with me. I'd not been allowed to bring a partner for support either, which at the time was T. My sister had purposely added the words, "We ask that no non-married couples attend," to the invite, which had been applicable to me and my sister's soon to be adult stepdaughter. We'd been the only ones not part of the church.

When the day arrived, I put on a brave face and acted happy for her, as was expected of me. The photographer took photos, something I'd been ncluded in, and I dined at the round table with my stepfamily, as we all made small talk as if we'd always been unified. As for my Dad, there'd been something off about him all day. He'd been over the moon with my sister getting married again, but he also seemed sad. As he got up to give his speech, it had started off normal enough, but then he suddenly became emotional, as he began talking about Mom and her suicide. I could immediately sense everyone's discomfort in the room, and then as he locked eyes with me, the speech shifted. "And then there's my daughter, Ellie..." he said. I held my breath, feeling all eyes on me.

I could tell this was not going to be an "I love my other daughter too, and am so proud of her," moment. But just as he was about to continue, my sister thankfully grabbed the microphone away from him.

"Thanks so much Dad," she said, as he shuffled back to the table, looking especially forlorn. I immediately let out the breath I'd been holding, and all I now wanted was the safety of home. I didn't want to be the outsider among my family, and I was tired of being reminded of my inadequacy as a daughter and sister. Outside of Dad's speech, he'd barely looked at me all night, and when we paired up for a father daughter dance, I felt little love from him. And by the time the wedding was over, I was emotionally spent.

Now, here I was several years later, engaged, with no father, and only a sister left for family. She'd not been the first person I'd called the moment I'd gotten engaged, she'd sadly been the last, never having met S. up to this point. And as I held the phone to my ear, and dialed my sister's number, I couldn't help but feel sad that in spite of this monumental moment, we'd never truly share in each other's joy.

Entry 37: Enough